I'm sorry if anyone finds this offensive but hey, if it's offensive then don't read it. Just as a note, I have never met or experienced anyone with thoughts like this so if this is wildly wrong and awful, then please either tell me something constructive or shush. Now read the story :)
"Don't bother." She didn't look around.
"It won't work." He said again.
She still didn't look round. She just looked down. It was a long way to the ground, not that she could see it. The night was thick and black, filling the air with impenetrable ink, hiding the ground a long way from view.
She felt drawn to this void, this endless pit that was too dark to have even begun. She took half a step forward. He didn't stop her. She took a deep breath, staring down into the black.
"It won't work."
She was annoyed now, she'd been ready. Slowly she turned, from her high position on the battlement for the first time she was taller than him. She liked it.
"Why won't it work? Because someone will stop me? Because my family or friends will be there to save me?"
"No."
She snorted with something that might've been laughter. It wasn't. Her eyes shone, not with tears, but with hatred. The mirthless hatred so strong it was almost humour, she almost found it funny. "Why, because you'll stop me?"
"No."
"Then why? Why the hell won't it work?" she demanded, furious at how resolutely he was sticking to being so unhelpful, so damn pessimistic. She laughed then; here she was, standing at the top of the Astronomy tower on the edge of the edge, accusing someone else of being pessimistic. Now that was funny.
He didn't ask why she laughed. He knew better than any that this situation made anything funny. Her laughter turned to anger when she turned back round to see him still standing there, still staring into the space a little past her, not looking at her but calmly and simply demanding that she couldn't.
"Damn it you little bastard why the fuck won't it work? Answer me damn it answer me!" She was screaming, nearly crying, hysterical. She stepped down from her high battlement to shake him by the shoulders. When he remained silent she lost her temper completely and hit him, her fist connecting with his jaw. Even in her state she felt scared.
She got no reaction.
He still didn't look at her, even his eyes remained calm, impassive, completely blank.
"Why?" she asked, in a desperate whisper. She needed it to work.
"It won't work." He said. He ignored the pain in his jaw, in truth, he barely felt it. He took off his jacket, put his wand down on a lower battlement and undid the buttons of his cuff then pulled up his sleeve to his elbow, eyes fixed on the darkness. He stepped up onto the higher battlement next to her, staring down at the blackness like she had been, but now she was staring at him. He was calm, relaxed almost, perfectly happy and more at peace than she had ever seen him.
Once he had stared his fill at the opaque air he smiled, almost. It was the only natural expression she had ever seen him wear. It was resigned, defeated, yet somehow free, wearily happy. He raised his eyes to the horizon, smiling a little more. It was beautiful, his milk white face was perfect, his smile so innocent, so simply happy; it radiated freedom and pure joy. Then he shut his eyes, his smile wider, his joy, his freedom catching the wind and taking flight, he spread out his arms behind him and teetered for just a moment on the edge.
He fell, face down, facing the ground, staring into the blackness through his closed eyes. She couldn't help herself, she gasped, let out a small shriek, screamed his name.
But he had no sooner vanished from her view into the black than he was rising, rising back up, arms still spread, eyes still shut. He looked like an angel, his face pale and beautiful, his arms spread like wings. He opened his eyes, for a moment they were even more beautiful, a silvery grey filled with the same exhilarated happiness as his face, then the moment was gone. The happiness on his face died and blanked again. He stepped down from the battlement and put his coat back on, putting his wand back in his pocket.
"See."
She stepped back up to the battlement; he did not try to stop her, just as he had promised. He took her hand even, helping her step up more easily.
"It's your magic. It won't let you. It knows you go down with no intention of going back up and it kicks in. It won't let you die, not that way. If you want to die you have to go much messier, that shows who really wants to die."
He pushed the images of those he had seen who had really wanted to die, those who hadn't cared about dying peacefully or prettily or romantically or crap, those who had done whatever it took, and looked like it. He didn't shudder. Those people and their escape was part of him now. He had taken a mental note with each one, how they had done it. He had even tried to work out how long it had taken; how much pain they were in. It would come in useful one day, he was sure. Not yet.
"Why do you want to die?" She asked, staring at the dense emptiness below. He laughed.
"Why do I want to live?" He replied, staring at the dark horizon. She paused.
"Don't know."
"You don't know anything. Why do you want to die?" She ignored the insult, why did it matter?
"Same reason."
"No." His answer was sharper than before, harder. He was angry. "It's not the same reason, so I'll ask you again, why do you want to die?"
"My family don't care, there are more where I came from. I don't have any friends, no real ones who care."
"And you think that's a reason?" he asked his voice was controlled, measured, almost blank as before. It wasn't quite. He was furious.
"Yes." She said, what other reasons were there?
"That's not your reason, that's mine. Your family do care. You can make new friends. Have a new future. Get over yourself." He spat at her. She stared at him, a little shocked at the venom in his voice. He still wasn't looking at her, still looking down from the horizon to the abyss where the ground ought to be. He hated her for daring to believe that she could no longer live in her life.
"If you've got nothing, why are you standing here then? Have you not thought of anything that works yet?"
"It's not finding a way to do it, it's finding it in yourself to do it. Trust me; I've seen enough ways to do it to know how." He didn't shudder. He had seen enough of his father's, ahem, associates, who had had enough. He knew exactly how to end it, the best way. He just wasn't ready. There was no way she could be ready.
"So the real question is, what are you doing here?"
She thought about it. She didn't know. Now he told her, it was obvious.
"I don't know."
"Yes you do."
"What is it then?"
"Something that sucks."
"Like what?"
"Something you don't want to be without."
She thought about it again.
"I want someone who loves me. Not because they have to, because I'm Me."
"Good idea. You should go work on that."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you're not leaving are you?" She wasn't really asking.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I want to be able to fall."
"Oh." She paused, unsure how to continue, but far from nervous. Hard to be scared of anything much when you've been just about to throw yourself off a tower. "Why? What is it you want? That you don't want to live without?"
He paused.
"I want to have never been born. I'm not the first person to wish it."
"But if you weren't born then you wouldn't be here at all now."
A small smile.
"That's the point."
She gave it some thought, working out what was going on. She wasn't entirely sure why she was bothering, she hated him. But he had helped her. There was even less reason for him.
"Why now? You've had seventeen years to do this thinking, why now?"
"For the first eleven years I didn't know I was missing anything. Then I started to see other people, families who gave a shit. It started then. But now? I've seen everything I'll never have. And now there's nothing I can do to get it."
"There's always something."
"No." his voice blanked over, no emotion. So blank there had to be something underneath to hide. "I'm not free anymore." He let out a laugh, just one, cold, hard, mirthless. "To think I'm calling what I was before 'free'. But now I'm really not free. Nothing is mine anymore, not my body, not my mind." She didn't interrupt him, she was curious, she wanted to know where he was going, afraid he would stop at any moment. He did. He did not elaborate. She was too curious to just let it drop.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm his." No need to ask who.
"How?"
"Like this." He held out his arm to her, stretched out straight, palm facing upwards. She took his wrist and stared down at his forearm.
It didn't surprise her, no one would've been surprised, it was just a, shocking, thing to see. To see human flesh, of a boy so young, tainted, tarnished in such a way. Branded like cattle. She hated it, the way the grotesque symbol stood out so dark and overpowering against his pale skin, the way it showed who this person belonged to, grouping every single one of them under the same label, whether or not they deserved it.
These thoughts had never before occurred to her. She pushed them away for now, she'd think about them later.
"See. Branded, my body is his. My mind is his for his perusal, anytime he feels like it he'll have a look around and see what's new. Not only am I not free, no one I'm with is either." He watched her, but she made no attempt to leave, to step back off the battlement.
"So. Why do you want to fall?"
"I told you to get over yourself and fix it. I don't see how I can. I don't have family. I can't have friends. I don't know how to care and if I started I'd have to leave. I'm not safe you see. If He sees something he doesn't like, he might just fix it. My future is Him. No one else will employ me, go near me even. I'm contaminated." He spat the last word with hatred, venom, considering the irony that this was exactly how he treated others. Only with him it was true. Contaminated.
"What else do you want?"
He considered it.
"I want to be more like you." He laughed, a genuine one this time with a real almost smile. "No one ever thought they'd hear that did they?"
"What's so great about me?"
"You've got a future. People like you, people care. You're not contaminated, tainted, marked."
"What else you want that I have?"
"I want something you apparently haven't got, only I don't care why."
"Surely you've been loved by someone?"
"No. Why bother to love a sacrifice?"
"What?"
"My mother, I was a sacrifice, for the master. Why go to the bother of loving something you're sending to slaughter. It's a waste really, and you'll only get hurt. So she didn't, father wouldn't anyway, even if I wasn't meant to be His."
"Then find someone."
He extended his arm again, the mark painfully obvious.
"Well that won't stop everyone."
"Everyone who can love. No one who wears it is capable."
He was right. None of the Deatheaters could love. If they used to then they didn't anymore.
"So what are you going to do?"
He paused. He didn't need to consider it, he had had enough time to cover his options. "I'm going to stay here. When it's light I'll leave and pretend like it's fine. I'll come back tomorrow, and every night until I don't need to anymore."
She knew better than to be optimistic. "Don't need to?"
"Until I decided it's time to go."
Go. Interesting word choice. Could mean leave school, could mean just leave the tower. She didn't think so.
"Go?"
"I'm not ready yet. But I want to be. That's why I come here. I'm trying to get ready." He turned to her, emotion in his eyes for the first time. His eyes reached out to her, imploring her to understand. "I want to die. No, I want to want to die. I don't yet, and I don't know why. Why do I want to live? I haven't got anything to live for."
"Nothing to lose, everything to gain." She said quietly. The corners of his lips twisted slightly.
"I wish." He knew he had no hope, no future, nothing to gain.
"It's true."
"What can I gain? I've got money, power, looks, girls, it's all nothing. I've got it all."
"What about everything else?"
"I can't get love. If I knew what it was I would run from it at top speed, it's not safe for anyone. Especially not me, not anyone who's contaminated."
"Stop it." She said suddenly, cold but angry.
"Stop what."
"Saying that, saying contaminated. It doesn't help."
"But to the contrary, you and your lovely little friends have spent six years saying I need to be taken down a peg; now I'm doing it myself, and my it tastes sweet." He gave a twisted little smile to the horizon.
"If you jump so do I." She said, noticing him edging closer to the edge.
"Funny thing about the human brain," he said, ignoring her completely, "If you live your life in perfect safety, thus increasing the likelihood of you staying alive, you feel less alive than someone who tries to kill themselves. Funny how things work out," he nearly laughed.
"I mean it."
"I know you do, but all you'll achieve is adrenaline, there's no point."
"Then step away from the edge."
"No."
"Why?"
"I like to pretend that it would work. And I like how it looks down there. It's black, and empty, and nothing. Thick with nothing. It's Death. It's... enticing, is it not."
She peered over the edge.
"Yes. It is isn't it. Enticing, and somehow charismatic too. I like it."
A smile twisted his lips.
"Of course you like it. Everyone likes it, they're just too scared to admit it. But they're the smart ones, they're the ones who'll stay away."
He looked over at her. "I'll see you tomorrow night Weasley."
"You will Malfoy?"
"Yes. I will. You like it here, the blackness. It's more than enticing, it's addictive. You'll keep coming back. Until you stop."
"And when will that be?"
"When I stop."
She didn't need to ask when or why he'd stop.
Dawn broke the skyline, the first light. She'd be missed.
She turned away, throwing a glance over her shoulder to him. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye." He didn't turn away.
She left. He would too, soon. And although everything was different, nothing would change.
